I attended Millbrook School from 1976 until 1979 at which point I left for Harrow. Millbrook was an oasis of happiness, run by the outstanding and inspirational Hugh Glazebrook, ably assisted by his equally remarkable and kind wife Margaret. I kept in contact until his death in the early 1990s.

 Millbrook was a school like no other; one never felt the pressure of work and yet clearly there was (considerable) pressure as the results achieved spoke for themselves. Learning was always fun, the headmaster and staff clearly recognised that information and the processing thereof is best achieved in a vibrant and happy atmosphere. Unlike my previous school, where Tuesday and Thursday evenings involved caning, I was called to the headmaster at Millbrook when early in my career I threw a hatchet at a boy (fortunately missed!).  Hugh Glazebrook talked to me in his office and explained that my behaviour could not be tolerated for the safety of the other boys and to think carefully upon what I had done, and then took me to watch the cricket, buying me an ice cream on the way. After 10 minutes of standing next to Hugh, with him telling me in confidence just how dull cricket is he suggested we walk back to the school, buying me another enormous ice cream en route! This intelligent and kind approach without doubt changed my outlook and future. Such men are few and far between.

 There were boys, myself included, who had no interest in games and I am certain to this day that we were carefully ‘segregated’ to live in a house offsite with an outstanding (as they all were) teacher called McKenzie (?) and his wife who regularly spoiled us with biscuits and hot chocolate; but to ensure we obtained our exercise the van that was meant to transport us to and from the school was permanently either broken down or out of fuel with the result that Mr McKenzie steered and us boys pushed the van, in all weathers, to and from school. I suspect with Mr McKenzie’s foot gently pressing on the brake pedal! None of us cared, we were delighted to help, a very happy few years.

 Frederick Hervey-Bathurst